Some days just don’t seem to go according to plan.  Saturday was one of them.  I had a great day planned.  The boys’ basketball games in the morning, meeting friends at Hidden Valley ski resort at noon to learn how to snowboard, church and closing out the day at Luke Hoffman’s annual ice skating fundraiser for St. Baldrick’s.

The day started off fine.  I got up, put my hair in braids, made some coffee and met Mike and the kids over at school for an 8:30 basketball game.  Since Ethan also had baseball practice on Saturday morning, Mike and I had arranged to divide and conquer.  I stayed at the school at watched Silas’ game with Ally, while Mike took Ethan to the JCC for batting practice.  When the game was over, we still had some time to kill, so I took the kids back to my house for a bit.  I didn’t realize until we pulled back up to the school that Silas had jumped in the car without his coat.  He was only wearing his basketball uniform.  And it was 18 degrees out.  Parenting fail.  So, I threw an extra sweatshirt of mine around him to get him into the school and offered to drop his coat off at Mike’s house later.  Disaster averted.  But still, Strike 1.

Ethan played his heart out for the next hour.  Even though he didn’t score as much as he has in previous games, he is still a joy to watch.  He had one play where he drove down to the basket and passed it off to his teammate Adam who threw it up for 2.  Let’s not forget that the assist is just as important as the shot itself.  It’s all about teamwork.  Well done, boys!

After the game, I came out of the school (where I get absolutely no service to my phone) to find a message from Emily.  We were supposed to meet at Hidden Valley at noon, but she was still hadn’t heard from the boys who were running 16 at Forest Park that morning.  I took my time heading to the ski resort since I knew we were already dealing with “Nick time” but contemplating that the icy running conditions may have slowed them down even more.  So, I stopped and filled the car up with gas.  While I was there I decided to run in and use the little girl’s room.  I walked out to find it was my secret girl crush, Amy Marxkors, who had been trying to break in on me.  We stood in PetroMart cracking up at the apropos absurdity of our chance meeting.  I’ve said it before, if we try to plan a get together we can’t make it happen, but of course we would find each other at a gas station bathroom.  Especially since I knew I would see her that night at Luke’s event in Shaw Park.  We parted ways, but before we did, I had to ask, “How far are you going?”  I felt a pang of jealousy as she responded, “Sixteen”.  Only another injured runner understands how I could possibly be jealous of someone running 16 miles in 18 degrees.  Seriously, is EVERYONE I know training for a spring marathon right now?  Well, I thought, its ok, my hamstring seems to be getting better.  I still have a shot at 26.2 this spring…

In the meantime, Emily had located Nick and Steve so we made our way to Hidden Valley.  I was the first to arrive, so I went up to the lodge to check things out.  I arrived to find a sign stating…We are out of rental snow board boots sizes: 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 and 13.  Ugh.  Maybe I’ll ski?  And the sign continued…We are also out of Helmets medium and large.  No worries, I have a tiny head, a small is fine.  Do they have youth?  That would work too.  The sign…And we’re out of ski poles.  Sigh…Strike 2.

I pulled out my phone to text everyone this new information and saw that Steve had just parked.  Steve and I waited in the cold until Nick and Emily arrived and we could discuss.  I had already warned Dan off since he was coming the farthest.  Serena had bailed due to an ankle injury and we couldn’t find Jen, who we learned later had made her way on to the slopes to ski without us.  Good thing she didn’t wait around.  So, back to the drawing board.  I was ready to do something.  I needed some physical activity.  Everyone else had already run…42 miles between the 3 of them.  My jealousy reared its ugly head.  Then Emily suggested bowling.  Yes!  Bowling!  I jumped up and down in the snowy, gravel parking lot at her suggestion.

Our caravan set off down Manchester toward West County Lanes.  Ok, so it wasn’t the intense cardio of running or the challenge of learning to snowboard, but it was something.  And at least I was still going to put the hockey skates to good use later.  We were salvaging the day.  We paid for 2 games, got our shoes and Steve filled in the computerized score monitor with nicknames for all us.  The order was Emily Pink, Lindsey Goat, Pirate Nick and Vancouver Steve.  How I got shafted with the goat name since it was Nick who started that whole thing with his inability to read “COAT ROOM” at the Racine Marriott, I’m still not really sure.  Anyway, Emily gathered all the sparkly and pink swirly bowling balls and we got underway.  My first frame I snagged a spare.  Oh yeah, it’s on!  Yes, I’m even competitive at things I suck at, like bowling.  My second frame, I got up, grabbed a ball, started toward the lane and just as I released the ball I almost fell to ground in pain as the ball went straight into the gutter.  The hamstring!  Oh, No!  What have I done?!  I limped back, grabbed the ball again.  It’s ok, I’ll just go slow…?  Another gutter ball.  It was bad.  I sat down in pain feeling dejected.  Had I really just re-injured myself while I was BOWLING?!  Of all the lame ways to keep myself out of the running game.  And so much for skating later.  Strike 3!  I’m out.

Steve went to his car and grabbed a brand new bottle of Advil.  “Can I just eat these like M&M’s?” I joked.  I had to laugh to keep from crying.  In reality, I was devastated.  I could barely walk, let alone continue bowling.  But I did manage to prove that I am the world’s best granny bowler! And I still managed a significant ab workout since Emily spent a solid 5 minutes laughing at Nick’s question, “When is New Year’s?”  Hey, it’s good to laugh at yourself, it’s even better to laugh at your friends.

Steve, who had declared himself a terrible bowler, managed to beat everyone both games.  Somewhere along the way, the other Steve showed up and took over for me.  And Nick and Emily thought about going round 3 to break their tie, but ultimately, we all agreed to call it a day.

I headed home to get ready for Brian’s arrival for the evening.  Even though I likely couldn’t skate, we were still going to the fundraiser to support Luke and be social.  When Brian and I pulled up to the Shaw Park skating rink that night and I pulled my skates from the back of my car, Brian looked at me like, “You’re not seriously going to try this, are you?”  It was a bad idea, I knew it.  But the idea of being the one to just stand there while everyone else participates, is more painful than the hamstring injury itself.

We arrived and immediately said hi to Megan and Amy.  Shane, Heather and Gerry showed up with skates on a minute or so later.  Brian went and got skates, while I stood there holding mine and contemplating my dilemma.  Everyone went out to the ice while I went in to say hi to Luke and buy raffle tickets.  And then Shane started with the peer pressure.  “Get those skates on, Lady”.  Knowing that he was going to be there, I really should have left the skates in the car if I had any chance of avoiding getting on the ice.  A few minutes later the skates were on, at least I was as tall as everyone else while I stood around in the cold.  And finally, I ended the debate in my head, even if I went around the rink only one time, I HAD to.  So we made our way to the ice.  I was slow and careful and deliberate with my footing.  And as I skated, I realized, this is ok.  It’s really not too bad.  The big fear was if I started to fall and had to use my hamstring to stabilize myself, but I went around and around, hoping for the best.  Until finally, it happened.  I hit a chunk of ice and while I managed to stay upright, the damage was done.  Ok, yes, I admit it.  I was dumb.  It was a bad idea.  A really, really, really bad idea.  So what made me ultimately risk it and get on the ice?  Pride.  Of course.  There is absolutely no other reason.  I should have accepted Strike 3 and left it at that.

As we got off the ice, Luke’s girlfriend Kim, who is a hilariously awesome and wonderful human being (and has beautiful red curtains) grabbed me to let me know I had won the Qdoba gift card in the raffle.  Awesome.  So now while I am injured and unable to run, at least I can eat free burritos.

So now where do I go from here?  Well, the good news is I have an appointment to get my hamstring looked at tomorrow morning.  In the meantime, I guess I’ll just keep swimming and biking as much as I can.  Of course, we had yet another snow day today, so swimming was cancelled.  So much for that idea.

If nothing else, Winter 2014 with all of its snow days and setbacks is reminding me that I don’t get to be in control and sometimes I just have to roll with the punches.  On Saturday as I felt that jealousy twisting in my stomach over my friends running mileage in double digits in a day (I haven’t even done that in a week lately…or a month), I had to wonder…am I jealous that they are doing that?  Or am I jealous of the feeling they get when they are done and they can say, Yeah, I just finished a 16 mile run.  Honestly, it’s a little bit of both.  As much as I say I don’t have anything to prove to anyone else, I’ll be honest here, I sure do like the look on a customer’s face when they say, “So did you run today?”  And I respond, “Nah, I ran 20 yesterday so I took today off.  I’m training for another marathon.”   It’s pride.  And I like to keep proving my abilities.  But it’s times like this that I am forced to remember that while I am a runner, because I love it, it’s not all that I am.  There is so much more to it.

The other night I was having a text conversation with my friend, Kristen.  She was feeling frustrated that her running ability isn’t where she wants it to be.  And in my attempt to help her see the beautiful person that she is, she actually did the same for me as I read back through those texts.  Sometimes we score, sometimes we assist.  It’s all about teamwork.  Here is a portion of our conversation:

RRG: You may not be able to do what everyone else can.  That’s ok.  I want to qualify for Boston, but I can’t quite get there.  Does that make you think any less of me as a runner?

KS: Not at all.  I describe you to everyone else as “epic badassosity”.  Boston has nothing to do with it.  You run, you push yourself, you laugh, you cry, you help everyone around you, and your strength has nothing to do with your ability to run, swim, bike or drink epic amounts of Rum Chata.  What makes me put you on that epic badass pedestal is the person you are inside, not your athletic awesomeness.

RRG: And that, my friend, was exactly my point.  It’s not about who runs faster or farther or any of that BS.  Be true to yourself.  People are attracted to real, genuine people.  You’re awesome as you are.  Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.  If they do, I will kick their ass.

RRG again: Who you are is enough.  Remember that.

It’s funny that I was having that conversation in an effort to make her feel better.  And yet, I needed those words just a few days later.  Yes, I have an injury.  And it’s incredibly humbling to say the very least.  Especially because it re-happened while I was Bowling.  Nothing ever hurts more than a blow to the ego.  But I am RRG and I will rise again. One way or another.  In a way, I have already risen above this, because I remember that who I am is enough.  Thank you, Kristen, for reminding me of that.  This hamstring ain’t got nothin’ on me.

Hopefully Dr. Laiderman will say the same.

Since starting this blog a year ago, I haven’t gone more than a week or so without posting.  Until now.  I’ve been quiet this month.  This hamstring injury has me a little down.  I’ve been swimming and biking and boxing and yoga-ing as much as I am able.  But sitting on a bike that isn’t going anywhere and staring at the cast of CSI while I pedal away doesn’t give me quite the same adrenaline rush as a long run through the woods.  Likewise, staring at the blue line on the bottom of the pool does even less for my mental health.  I still get the endorphin high of a good workout, but it’s just not the same.

Last week I did a quick warm up on the elliptical and then tried to jump on the treadmill for a bit.  By the time I was closing in on a mile, I could feel my hammy getting tight.  I decided to be smart, not risk it.  So I put my tail between my legs and went back to the elliptical.  I have started to question whether or not a spring marathon is really in the plan for me this year.  It’s still up in the air.  I’m not ready to throw in the towel yet, but we’ll see how the next couple weeks go.  Ultimately, I have to consider the long term goal.  Arizona in November is way too important to risk spending the whole summer healing from a hamstring injury.  Sometimes it’s hard to see beyond the present situation, but it’s important to remember the big picture.

My injury isn’t the only thing that has kept me from posting lately.  I am terrible at keeping secrets.  Wait! Before you decide to never confide in me ever again, let me clarify.  I am terrible at keeping secrets that I’m super excited about.  Like when I find the perfect present for someone.  Or if I’m on the brink of an awesome new adventure that I want to share with the world.

Well, it just so happens that there is big news in the world of RRG that I’ve been sitting on since just about the same time as my last post.  A couple weeks ago I showed up to work on a Monday afternoon and just as I sat down at the staff computer to send the weekly social run email, Rosie came flying into the backroom to see if I had read the email from David.  I had noticed the subject line, but hadn’t read it yet.  Something about Town and Country…huh?  I opened the email and Rosie stood behind me reading over my shoulder.  Come to find out, FLEET FEET St. Louis is starting a new partnership with the specialty triathlon store Swim Bike Run, located in Town and Country, MO.  Wow.  This is big news in the St. Louis world of endurance athletes.  FLEET FEET will be sharing space under the same roof as Swim Bike Run to assist with the specialty run part.  After reading the email, I went…Ohhhhh, that’s why Jaime called me today!  So I quickly grabbed the phone and called her back.  She didn’t even realize David had sent the staff email yet, but by the time we got off the phone we had a meeting arranged for Wednesday.

On Wednesday I went into the St. Charles store to meet with Jaime and Kristen to talk about my possible role in the new store.  Kristen has been on a yearlong hiatus from FLEET FEET, after serving as the head training coach in the past, she is now back to head up the new store.  You might remember Kristen’s appearance in my posts from Racine back in July.  Kristen and I, being very close in age, started the Racine half Ironman in the same wave.  I caught up to her on the bike somewhere around mile 50.  And we saw each other a couple times on the run.  Ultimately, I think she beat me by about a minute.  I can think of no other person that would make this new opportunity more enticing.  Funny side note:  Tracy, Kristen and I all showed up in each other’s race photos from Racine.  I guess it makes sense, you put three adorable blond triathletes from St. Louis in one wave and there is bound to be some confusion.

Anyway, I left that meeting an hour later feeling like my head was spinning.  I was on information overload.  I had a lot to think about.  I spent that afternoon and evening thinking about all that was presented.  I felt overwhelmed.  As much as I tried not to think about it, I would still find myself right back to dissecting every little detail.  I would have given anything to go for a run while I processed everything, which is typically what I do when faced with a big decision.  But since I couldn’t run, I had to opt for other methods of therapy.  So I baked brownies.  Somewhat counter-active, but whatever, it seemed to help temporarily.

I got to work Thursday morning still thinking through everything.  I talked with Erin some in between customers.  I was working it out.  I remember Erin saying, “I think you know your answer, Linds”.  She was right, it was pretty obvious.  Why wouldn’t I do this?  The timing of this is perfect.  The benefits are overwhelming.  As soon as it warms up, I can start riding my bike to work, where I can interact with experienced cyclists and triathletes on a daily basis while I try to figure out this whole Ironman thing.  I get to help blaze a trail with this new concept, and let’s face it, we all know that I am always up for a new challenge.

Here’s the thing that struck me recently.  Being a single parent is hard.  I don’t mean that in a whiney way.  I’m just being real.  Being a parent with a spouse is hard, so imagine doing it on your own.  My schedule is crazy.  Between a custody schedule, a retail schedule and a training schedule, I almost never know what day it is.  I go to work every Sunday while most of my friends are out playing.  Monday is a sleep in day for me while the world starts the work week.  My “weekend” can be found in the middle of the week because Tuesday and Wednesday are my two consecutive days off.  But not really, because I still have to do school drop offs and pick-ups.  I pack lunches and wash school uniforms. I take the boys to basketball practice. I
help with homework. I deal with snow days and sick kids, somewhere in there I try to get to the pool or jump on the bike.  I rarely know which end is up.  I have a hard time keeping track of anything.  But somehow I manage to keep it together.  Most of the time. Why?  Because I chose this life.  My life is a direct result of the choices I have made.  And it will continue to be.  So I try to make the most of the options presented to me.

As I was faced with this amazing possibility of joining Kristen and a couple of my other colleagues, I thought, no regrets.  Yes, life as a single parent is hard, but everybody has hard stuff to deal with in life.  The other day after swimming, I stood in the parking lot talking to my friend Sarah while our wet hair proceeded to freeze.  Sarah is a working mom who takes care of a child with a disability and she was telling me about the heart condition she has been dealing with for years.  She has a defibrillator implanted to assist her heart in an emergency, and she still participates in her events, but she can’t compete as hard as she used to.  I saw her at Innsbrook last summer where she had a huge PR and placed in her age group.  But she also had to have a personal kayaker out on the water with her.  Coincidentally, her kayaker was Sally Drake, owner of Swim Bike Run.  I also think of our friend Teri, who is constantly inspiring all of us with her pursuit to beat Cancer as she continues to complete marathons, Ironmans, all of it.  Not even the C-word can make Teri stop living life.  We are an amazingly close, supportive and interwoven community that I am beyond blessed to be a part of.

So, yeah, life is hard.  For everyone.  I’m no exception.  It’s all about perspective.  Just like Sarah said, as we stood in the parking lot cursing the stupid groundhog, “Sometimes we’ve just got to put on our big girl pants and keep going”.  We have been given the gift to keep doing what we love, even though sometimes it’s hard, and so we continue to do it.  Work hard, train hard, play hard.  And if I can combine all three at the same time, all the better.

No, my schedule doesn’t make any sense at all.  Not to anyone.  Least of all me.  I’m all over the place. But life is too short to go sit at a desk all day and do something that I’m not passionate about.  About a year ago, I wrote a post that started, “I love my job”.  That is still completely true today.  I’ve found my niche.  I am a runner.  I am a triathlete.  Here’s to the new adventure that awaits!

The sad day has finally come that I have to report an injury.  On Sunday morning I was out for a run with my new beau.  Yes, you read that right; Rambling Runner Girl has found a Rambling Runner Dude.  He runs but he isn’t into racing and he isn’t nearly the rambler that I am.  But who is?  Let’s face it, with me around, no one ever really stands a chance to get a word in.  And that’s not me being my competitive self, that’s just reality. Brian is my main squeeze.   He is good to me and he’s good for me.  He grounds me.  He reminds me that I don’t need to go 90 mph all the time.  He makes me laugh.  And most importantly, he accepts me just as I am.  It only took us 30 years to talk to each other, since we went to school together when we were 9.  Well, he was 9, I was 8, for a month.  But who’s counting?  And how’s that for patience?  You know what they say, timing is everything.

So, on Sunday, I wanted to show him one of my favorite places to run.  We started at Al Foster and ran into Castlewood where we bumped into some of my usual running crew.  But since I had to be at work by noon, we didn’t have time to do the route they were running.  We turned back and were making great time.  Then I noticed a funny twinge in my left hamstring.  Another step, hmmm, that’s weird, it feels tight.  Another step, I wonder if I should walk for a bit.  Another step, POP. Ouch!  And we’re walking.

Anyone who has ever run with me knows that I don’t like to walk.  I may, at times, walk a tough hill to conserve energy, primarily during a race.  At some point, you find your pace has slowed so much that walking is just as fast and doesn’t expend the energy that running does.  However, I am not at all fond of walking when I can run through the pain, nor am I fond of walking on a path as flat as Al Foster.  However, the day had come that it was absolutely necessary.  And so, we walked.  Fortunately it was a beautiful day.  A nice break from the extreme cold of this ridiculous polar vortex that keeps coming back around and hitting below the belt.  We got in about 5 miles before my hammy issues, then we walked the 2.5ish miles back to the car.  Our walk had set me back a little, but I still managed to get to work just a few minutes late.  And then I proceeded to hobble around the store with a hamstring compression wrap on for the entirety of the day.  Thank God for Ibuprofen.

This injury is a reminder that, contrary to what I like to believe of myself, I am not invincible.  It’s been a while since I’ve had an injury of this magnitude that has taken me out of the game.  The game of running that is.  But, if there is one thing I’m good at, it’s turning a negative into a positive.  I have taken advantage of the fact that swimming is actually a really good way to rehab an injury like this.  And who really wants to run outside when we are expecting a high of 11 degrees anyway?!

Yesterday, I got up and put my swimsuit on, made my coffee, took some meds and headed to Crestview.  I gingerly lowered myself into the pool, but the water felt great on my tight muscles.  Having an injury makes everything tight.  You compensate, you favor other muscles and ultimately everything is out of whack.  My dad always said try to walk as normal as possible.  But then again, if I’d had a broken leg, he would have said, “You’re fine, just walk it off”.  There is a reason I’m as tough as I am.

But yesterday wasn’t just any day in the pool.  Yesterday something unexpected happened.  I had decided when I got in the pool, I was going for distance.  I had plenty of time, so I was going to see how far I could make it, at a nice comfortable pace.  As a triathlete, we are commonly told to take the kick out of it anyway, but yesterday I had to.  I thought about grabbing a pull float, but decided to fly without one.  So, using only upper body, with my legs trailing along behind me, I went back and forth the length of the pool.  After every 400 meters, I would throw in a hundred meters of backstroke and then back to freestyle.

A couple weeks ago, Coach Andy had talked about “keeping a bullet in the holster”.  I asked what he meant.  He was referring to using the push of one arm to propel the other arm, leading the way out in front, further through the water.  He had frequently in the past mentioned that if I could leave that hand out in front a split second longer, I would begin to find my rhythm.

And then, yesterday, it finally happened.  Somewhere in the middle of the 3000 meters that I managed, I felt it.  I was doing it.  I was hanging that hand out there and pushing myself through the water.  I finally felt the rhythm that is swimming.  I found it.

I’m a runner.  I’m used to step left, step right, repeat.  But with swimming, the alternating movement of the swim stroke doesn’t look exactly like the rote movement of running.  It’s almost more of a dance.  And yesterday, something clicked.  And once I
felt it, I wanted to go faster.  I loved the rhythmic feeling I was experiencing.  It was soothing.  And it was my reward for admitting all my fears, and failures, and shortcomings, but persevering in what I feared anyway.

But isn’t that so true, in general?  When we admit the thing that is really scaring us, the thing that is holding us back, it doesn’t have a grip on us anymore.  Granted it took me a year to get here, but my efforts and sticking with it are finally paying off.  Being “in the wait” is hard, you just have to be patient and persevere, but once you get there it’s so worth it.

Today I went back to the pool.  This was the first time I have ever walked onto the deck of any pool and not felt like a complete amateur.  I’m still not the fastest one in the water, not even close, and I likely never will be.  But I’m not the slowest anymore either.  Today, I didn’t worry at all about my distance.  In fact, I couldn’t begin to tell you how far I went.  I actually meant to bring my Garmin today so I wouldn’t have to count, but I forgot it.  Oh well, there will be other days for that.  Today, I focused solely on technique.  I just wanted to relax and swim and enjoy the rhythm.  I earned that.

Sometimes things just click.  They just come together.  If you had told me a year ago where I would be right now, in so many aspects of my life, I wouldn’t have believed it.  But my patience and persistence paid off.  Although sometimes it was hard to keep the faith, I never gave up hope.

And so, I ask you, what is the thing you have been waiting to do?  What has held you back? What are you afraid of? Fear of hurting?  Fear of failure?  Something else?  For my friend, Dan, it was the same as me; swimming.  While I was primarily afraid of not being good at something and looking like a fool, Dan is not at all comfortable with having his face underwater.  Last year he wanted to sign up for the Racine Half Ironman that I did, but he let the swim thing get in the way.  This year, I am happy to report, he has already registered for his first Half Ironman.  He will be competing with me in Alton, IL at the Border Wars Half on October 5^th, just 4 days after my birthday.  My friend Ken has followed suite.  He registered last night.  And he still needs to buy a bike. Now I get to play the role of being the resource, the encourager, the mentor, the “seasoned” triathlete.  I still find this really quite hilarious, but I vow to help my friends however I can, just as others have done, and continue to do, for me.  I can think of no better birthday gift than being present to witness the accomplishments of my friends.  Followed by a trip to Fast Eddie’s to celebrate.  Of course.

So now the challenge is this:  Step 1-Admit it.  Acknowledge the thing that you want to do. Step 2-Try it. If you don’t know where to start, find someone who does and ask for help.  Trust me, I know how hard that is, do it anyway.  Step 3-Stick with it for one year.  And then see where it leads you.  If you need to sign up for something before you feel completely ready, go ahead and do it.  You know the saying, if you wait until you’re “ready”, you’ll never do it.  What are you waiting for?  You never know what adventures are ahead of you, and what rewards they’ll bring, until you do it.  So take a leap of faith.  Put yourself out there.  And expect the unexpected.

Last Tuesday, I finally got back in the pool after several months of avoiding it.  I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t the epic fail that I expected it to be.  It was actually, dare I say, quite pleasant.  I jumped in thinking I was back at square 1, where I started a year ago, the first time I walked onto the deck of the Crestview Middle School pool and talked to Andy Ripp.  As he prepared to evaluate my stroke that day, I was utterly embarrassed at how ridiculous I was sure I looked.  But last Tuesday, as I slipped into the water and began a slow warm up, I repeated the things to myself that Andy had told me that very first day in the water: Head down, elbows up, fingertips pointed toward the bottom of the pool and most importantly, RELAX.  I glided through the water, nice and easy (read: slow).  Ok, I can do this.  I haven’t forgotten how.  Even the bilateral breathing felt as natural as ever.  And my new goggles that I bought in Arizona, per the suggestion of Ron Trapper, were a huge success.

After a few hundred meters, I caught a glimpse of Andy walking along the side of the pool watching me.  I had sent him an email that morning to let him know I was planning to be there so that he didn’t die of complete shock upon seeing me again.  At the end of that length, I stopped and he nodded, smiling.  “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Surprisingly okay,” I responded.

“You look good.  You look relaxed.  You haven’t lost any technique.”

I was relieved.  We talked for a minute about technique, about the Racine half Ironman that I completed in July and various events that I am signed up for this year, including Ironman Arizona.  Andy suggested that I let my lead hand hang out in front a split second longer.  And then I went back to it.  I managed about 1500 meters in the time I had left.  I mixed in some back stroke here and there just to change muscle groups, but I felt good about my freestyle efforts.  Slow and steady is still a victory.

So when today was coming around, I had my bag packed with my swim gear and I was feeling ready.  I was feeling good.  But just after 7 am this morning, came the text message that has become all too familiar this winter.  “School Cancelled.”  Ugh.  If school is cancelled, that means swimming is cancelled.  Of course, even if it wasn’t, I don’t know what I’d do with my kids during that time anyway.

So, today became a bike on the trainer at home day while the kids watched episodes of Jessie and Good Luck Charlie on the Disney Channel.  Swimming might just have to wait til next week since I have other things planned during the rest of this week’s practice times.  But sometimes that’s the way life goes.  You have to roll with the punches.  You have to re-evaluate.  You have set backs…

Today I faced another setback.  Or seemingly so anyway.  I am coming to terms with the fact that there are still people and situations in this world that scare me. That’s right, the adrenaline junkie tough chick gets scared sometimes.  At one point this afternoon, I stood in my room staring at the Wall of Lindsey that holds all my medals and plaques and the picture of the boat that MSU Women’s Crew named the Lindsey J.  And it occurred to me that while I seek to prove how strong I am through all of these different activities, I am really masking the bigger issues.  I am scared.  Scared of being perceived as weak.  Scared of allowing people the chance to hurt me.  Scared of letting anyone to use my vulnerabilities against me ever again.

So, where does that leave me?  Does that mean I’ve lost all the progress that I thought I had made?  No, I don’t think it does.  Just like swimming, it may have been a while since I had been in the pool, I may have put things on hold temporarily, but I didn’t forget everything I’ve learned.  I just have to think about it a little more closely while I deal with the issues in front of me.  Again, slow and steady is still a victory.

In my last post, I made reference to how my dad and I would say, “It hurts good.” And just like running, when it hurts good, you know you’ve pushed yourself and you’ve grown; emotionally speaking we could say the same.  When we face our fears and the things that hold us back, they hurt but confronting them is good for us.  And that isn’t necessarily a setback, it’s a chance to see how far we’ve come even though there is still work to do.  This doesn’t negate the progress that has been made.

Sometimes I think about why I do the marathons and other endurance events that I do.  Yeah, I love that stuff.  I love the work that goes into training for it.  I love the time with my friends.  I love the travel and the experience of it.  I love the sense of accomplishment I feel when I cross the finish line sweaty and exhausted.  I love the way I smile as I hobble around for a day or two afterward.

But no marathon or Ironman or any other race will ever take the place of facing the things that truly scare me.  It’s easy to see how people become addicted to alcohol or food or drugs, all things used to cover over the real problem.  But even racing has the potential to become an unhealthy obsession if I am only using it to try to fill a void.

I want to earn the title Ironman this year.  In November I will have the chance to physically prove it.  But in the months leading up to that, I still have some things to face in order to call myself an all around Ironwoman.  This isn’t a setback so much as it is a temporary pause to re-evaluate how far I’ve come and where I still need to go from here.  Slow and steady is still a victory.

Kelly, Adrianne, RRG, Frenchy, Farrell and Ron…getting ready to take on IMAZ 2014

I’ve been saying all along, Ironman Arizona is just a platform for me to figure out how to tell my story.  There is a lot more to my story than most people know, but somehow I will figure out how to tell it, as hard as it may be.  I invite you to stick around to make the journey with me.

My dad and I always used to say, after a tough run, “It hurts good.”  Now that I made it through my first real week of training in 2014, I can assure you that by the end of the week I hurt good.  This week I invited several old friends back into my routine.  My boxing gloves, my goggles and my yoga mat, just to name a few. If variety is the spice of life, then I was cooking with the big dogs this week.  By Thursday night I had been to the Boxing Gym and the pool, I had run on roads and trails and I had made use of my time at home with the kids on the bike trainer and doing a yoga DVD.  Oh, and even though I haven’t used them this week, I stopped to pick up my hockey skates that I had sharpened.

By Friday, my body was screaming at me, wondering what in the world I thought I was doing re-introducing all of these activities at the same time.  While I know that the pain is a good thing because it means I’m stretching, growing, making progress, I also know when I need a break.  So I decided to take a Friday off.

But yesterday I was back at it.  I coached with the Fleet Feet trail group.  I led the long run group of Reindeers through the Al Foster trail, into Castlewood and back.  As we all know, I love to tell stories, so it won’t surprise anyone to learn that I earned myself the title of the “Ghost story telling Sherpa” today.  But 10 miles leaves a lot of time for stories, so I didn’t stop with the ghost stories. I told many other stories too.  Appropriately, since I was running with the Reindeer group, I told the story of a conversation I had with Silas about a year ago, just before Christmas.  It went like this…

Silas: Mom, you are a reindeer.

RRG: I am?!  Which one am I? Am I Dasher?  Or Vixen?  Or…

Silas:  No.  You are Gassy.  Gassy the reindeer.

RRG: Wow, that’s an unfortunate name.  Are you sure I can’t be one of the others?

Silas: No.  I like Gassy.  You are Gassy the Reindeer.

And so a nickname was born.  Warning: Gross Runner Girl Disclaimer once again.  Anyone who has ever run with me will tell you that I spit and blow snot rockets.  A lot.  Just ask Nick and Steve about Thursday night on the levee how they kept dodging my snot flying in the wind.  Sorry, Guys.  People who have run with me will also tell you that I have healthy GI track.  Therefore, I should probably embrace my Silas given nickname.

Anyway…

At little after 7:30 am we started our run with a group of about 6 of us on a brisk morning with a sky of bright pink that quickly faded to a dim gray.  A few miles in we sent a pair on a loop back to the parking lot since they were doing the short course.  4 of us continued on.  Eventually another pair dropped back a little bit.  So it became just two of us plodding along, sharing our stories, our legacies.  Chera’s story was pretty amazing.  She had been a single mom for a while too.  I asked what made her take up running.  This is something that always fascinates me because as someone who has been a runner since the ripe old age of 9, I find it hard to comprehend how difficult it would be to start at this point of my life.  Everyone has a story, everyone has a different reason for doing what we do, everyone has a specific favorite area of expertise, but we are all endurance athletes.  We all run or tri or what have you in an effort to prove (more to ourselves than anyone else) that we are conquerors.  On Friday at work there were 4 of us in the store, Will, Rosie and I were all talking to a customer who is preparing for a 100 mile race.  Rosie has completed a 100 mile race.  Will has completed an Ironman.  As this customer said, “Hats off to you” about training for my Ironman, I said, “That’s only going to take me about 14 hours, you’ll be running several hours longer than that.”  Why do we choose to do the things we do?  We want to believe that we are capable of great things and we push ourselves to the extreme in order to find out what our limits are. We want to have a good story.

So, as Chera and I led the way along the slightly snow covered, very frozen, gravel path, I told her a story about pacing my friend Jess on a tough half marathon course through Clayton a couple years ago.  Jess wanted a sub 2 hour half marathon, I agreed to run with her to get her to get the goal time she was seeking.  There is a lot of pressure when you pace someone and this was a first (and only so far) time for me.  If you fail to hit the goal, you aren’t just letting yourself down, you’re letting someone else down too.  I told Jess stories during that race.  I sang songs to her.  I ran ahead and checked out the course.  And when I turned around to find her walking up a small mountain of an incline, I yelled at her to get her ass moving up that hill.  I don’t remember what our exact finish time was when we crossed the line, but I know that we made our goal.  I think we were right under 1:59.  And that remains one of my favorite racing memories ever.  Getting Jess her goal was even better than getting one of my own.  As I told Chera today, when you pace someone like that you take someone under your wing and you own it, it’s like… “your baby”.

Sometimes I forget to look in the window of my own house and see that I am raising 3 little stories of my own.  Yesterday I didn’t forget.  Yesterday, after running with the Chera and the other reindeer, I went over to the school to watch my boys play basketball.  As I watched Silas, who appears to be somewhat afraid of the ball, I smiled at the little dance he does when he plays defense.  He might be better suited for martial arts.  Or ballet. Silas has his strengths, but they may not lie in athletics.  However, watching Ethan play, I am watching the continuation of a legacy right before my very eyes.  He’s good.  His ball handling skills are pretty impressive for a kid who has limited experience with basketball.  He scored 12 points in the first game of the season and matched that yesterday.  But more importantly than scoring points, watching Ethan play I can see that he is carrying on the Jacobs story.  I said yesterday, it reminds me of sitting in a gym watching my brother.  Ethan celebrates the victories of his teammates and at one point I watched him ask a kid on the other team if he was ok after being elbowed in the ear during a rebound attempt.  Ethan is consistently the first one to the other end of the court, he never stops moving and he puts his whole heart into the game.

Watching him was a flashback to watching my brother.  It was like watching my dad’s passion for sports.  And it was like watching…me.  I say all the time, Ethan is exactly like me.  He is stubborn, and feisty, and loud, and easily distracted.  But he is caring, compassionate and selfless.  He is energetic and spunky.  He is passionate and he goes at full force until it’s over.  And through it all, he never stops smiling.

Yesterday I had the privilege of seeing the next chapter of my story as it begins to unfold. I won’t ever claim to be perfect, not even close, but if Ethan is an indication of what my legacy looks like, then I must be doing something right.

Saturday morning…setting the sky on fire.

It’s a good thing the sun finally came out this week because it seemed to me as if Snowpocolipse 2014 was beginning to affect everyone’s ability to be rational.  Lately I’ve been surrounded by so much drama.  People being mean and people throwing pity parties.  I don’t like it.  I’ve got enough issues of my own.  Don’t invite me to your pity party, I don’t have time for that.

This time of year can be hard, regardless.  The days are shorter, the sky is gray-er, we see a lot less of the sun and it begins to affect our attitudes.  Add in the polar vortex and you’ve got the makings of disaster as it becomes increasingly more difficult to get a healthy daily dose of endorphins.

This year didn’t start off as I had hoped in terms of training.  With a blizzard, followed by a deep freeze, followed by several days of school cancellations, it made it pretty challenging for a single mom to get out on a bike or over to a pool or even out on the road for a run.  Thus, I was primarily relegated to the likes of a treadmill.  Yuck.

What is it about a treadmill that feels so torturous?  I think for me, it’s the notion that I’m running, but I’m really not going anywhere.  I’m not making any forward progress.  I’m still staring at that same sign on the wall that lists the rules of the Lake Chesterfield Clubhouse.  I’m watching Dr. Phil on the TV, I can see his mouth moving but I’m listening to Beyonce sing about being a survivor. The background music from my ipod continues to play on, but the scenery never changes.  I’m staring at the little red numbers in front of me that are ticking away the time ever so slowly. I’m expending all this energy but I just feel trapped in the same place.  Stuck at Point A.

And now, thanks to my friend Mike King, I have a bike trainer, so that my bike is securely located, stationary, in my living room.  Pedal as I may, the bike isn’t going anywhere either.  Progress?  What progress?

So, finally, this week the temperature warmed up and the kids went back to school.  I’m finally able to get outside again.  Cue Mel Gibson as William Wallace, “Freeeeeeeedoooooom!”

On Sunday, I got in a solid 6 miler before heading off to work.  It took me a while to get going, but by the second half I felt really good.  Maybe, at least in part, because I spotted a couple of girls jump on the path about a quarter mile ahead of me.  Funny that they were both wearing black tights and a pink top, just like I was.  I started chasing them down.  I wanted to catch them.  I felt my pace pick up and I started reeling them in.  At times my progress seemed almost non-existent.  They were still just as far ahead as they were when I first saw them, or so I thought, but were they really?  Maybe I was gaining some ground.  I wasn’t sure.  I put my head down and ran.  Step after step.  I pushed my pace.  And just as I crested the hill to turn right over the bridge back to my house, I looked up to see them go straight.  Only about 10 steps ahead of me.  I never technically caught them but I gained a lot of ground, even when it didn’t seem like I was.  And ultimately it wasn’t really about beating them, it was about seeing what I could do.

Yesterday, I went out for a run again. After my boxing class, I went over to Castlewood.  I knew my legs would be fatigued from kick boxing, and I knew it would be a tough with the mud and the ice still on the trail, but it was too nice a day not to at least grab a few miles while I had the chance.

It was tough.  I had to walk a little more than usual, but when I did walk, I looked up at the woods around me, where I have run so many times, usually with friends, but sometimes on my own.  I didn’t feel lost, I just enjoyed my surroundings. The sun was shining.  There were birds chirping and the melting snow was making the dripping sound.  I splashed through mud puddles and I tip-toed across icy spots.  I didn’t notice a branch that was shooting across the path and I ended up with a scrape across my shin.  I ran with reckless abandon down a hill that I had run up with the Fleet Feet training team just a week before while I listened to Mandisa sing at me that I’m an Overcomer.

Once I got back to the parking lot, after a rough 4 miles, I took off my muddy shoes and I drove home.  In my socks.

In the time between my run and work, I was standing in my kitchen eating a piece of cold, leftover pizza and drinking a Diet Coke.  I was just standing there, doing ordinary things, on an ordinary day after an average run.  And then, something hit me.  I am happy.  I am genuinely content.  For the first time ever in my life that I can remember, I am not waiting for the next big thing to happen.   Sometimes life is just ordinary.  We do laundry.  And eat cold pizza.  And go to work.  And that’s ok.

Not every day is hugely significant.  Not every race is a marathon.  You can’t climb mountains all the time, eventually you get to the top and have to head back down.  Some days nothing monumental happens.  Some days just…are.  From beginning to end, some days you just live to stay alive and you keep doing the things you normally do.  But what matters on those days is attitude.  Finding contentment and joy, even in the average, ordinary, and mundane.

If you had told me a year ago about all the progress I would make in the almost 12 months since I became Rambling Runner Girl, I’m not sure I would have believed you.  I knew I was at Point A, Ground Zero if you will, when my marriage failed miserably a couple years ago.  But I didn’t even know where Point B was.  I had no idea where I was headed or what it would look like when I got there.

Yesterday as I stood in my kitchen, I felt the need to stick a flag in the top of the mountain I climbed to get here as a monument to recognize the person I have become.  I have finally arrived.  My life has been patiently waiting for me to catch up and get to where I am now, in a state of contentment like I have never truly known before.   Our course isn’t always clear cut, sometimes we have to find it as we make our way through it.  Sometimes it gets messy, and treacherous, and demands more from us than we really believe we are capable of.  But here’s how I know I’ve arrived.  I’m not afraid of the mess.  I’m not afraid of the risk.  I’m not afraid to fall down and say Ouch and then get back up and try again. I’m not afraid of not knowing where I’m going or what effort it will require.  I’m not afraid of feeling a little stuck sometimes.  And I’m not afraid of going slow or even back-tracking.  Because those are the times that progress is really happening.   And I’m not waiting for the next big thing.  I’m just here.  And here is good place to be.

Progress.  We want to get from Point A to Point B.  Typically we want to rush through it as fast as possible.  But when we’re running in place, there is no visible point B.  Some days we see the progress happening before our very eyes, but it’s almost imperceptible.  Try as we might, it just isn’t happening fast enough.  Sometimes we wonder if it’s happening at all. Other days, the obstacles are plentiful, seemingly thwarting our progress altogether.  But we press on and eventually one day we wake up and we are rewarded for our efforts when we realize we made it.  Progress was happening all along, even in the moments that we felt like we were only spinning our wheels, because those are the times that make us stronger.

It took me a while to figure all that out, but it doesn’t really matter how long it took, the important thing is that I did.  I finally realized that life is made up of big and small alike. I got here.  But instead of Point B, I’m calling it Point A+, because I’m not done moving and who knows where I’ll go from here?

Happy New Year! How is it possibly the fourth day of the new year already?  I mean, seriously, where does the time go?!  2014 is officially off and running.  Pun intended.

I have done absolutely nothing this year and yet the days are flying by.  All I have to show for 2014 is that I’ve been to the movies twice and have removed the Christmas tree from the house.  Well, most of it anyway, with the exception of the pine needles I will still be finding until next December when I can at least pretend they are from the new tree.  In the middle of doing laundry today I decided it was time to get the dead tree out of the living room so I began dismantling it wearing only flip-flops, an oversized sweatshirt and a pink Under Armor hat.  I don’t recommend handling pokey evergreens in that get up.  I did have the common sense to throw on some sweatpants before dragging it out the front door.  Or maybe I should call that common decency and consideration for others since my neighbors were out and about on this beautiful day before we are expecting a high of 1 degree tomorrow.  But I digress. And I apologize for that visual.

This year I am training for an Ironman.  HAHAHAHA…Um, right.  So far I have swam absolutely nothing, I have looked at my bike sitting there in the corner mocking me and I have run a whopping 10 miles.  Now, in my defense, I have been fighting off the Christmas plague that everyone has been passing around this season.  My mom and Ally both had it over Christmas so I knew it was only a matter of time.

The other night I led the first social run of the year on a chilly, snowy night.  It was a small group that hovered inside the store as long as possible until we ventured out into the cold.  Steve and I had already decided to keep it short.  We managed 4 fairly well paced miles.  With about a half mile to go, Steve asked, “Did you pick it up or am I fading?”

“I think I picked it up,” I responded.

“Well, don’t let me hold you back.  Go if you feel it.” Spoken like a true running partner.  I’ve said the same to him before.

I had a pretty good kick at the end and got back to the store feeling strong.  Then we celebrated with hot cocoa and chocolate cupcakes.  Why else do you think we run?!

This morning I was up before the sun, on my way over to Castlewood to join up with the Fleet Feet trail group.  I was put in charge of being Sherpa to the “Reindeer”, which also included two “Rein-dudes” this week.  Andy had marked our 6 mile course with pink ribbons and we set off through the woods at a much more reasonable pace than what I had managed with Steve the other night.  One of my runners today was battling a knee issue, so I spent the first few miles going back and forth to check on him and then catching up with the rest of the group while grabbing the pink ribbons off the trees and stuffing them into the front of my jacket.

When we finished our group run today, I contemplated going back out for a few more miles, but seeing as I’m fighting off this stuffy-nose-hacky-cough-yuck, I decided better of it and went home to curl up under a blanket on my couch.  I turned on the TV and found the movie Perks of Being a Wallflower.  There is a line in the movie that goes, “Even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there.”

I can’t choose anything that happened last year.  Or the year before.  Or the many years before that.  But I can choose where I go from where I’m standing now.

I am constantly learning things from running.  I have learned that it’s not about how fast or slow we go, it’s just about putting in the miles.  I have learned to stop and look around once in a while so I don’t miss anything.  I have learned that sometimes I have to be smart and listen to my body when it’s telling me it’s had enough.  I have learned to take what I can from the bad running days and appreciate the good ones. I have learned that sometimes when we really don’t want to keep going, we have to.  So we just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  And eventually when we reach the finish line we realize how worth it the whole experience was.

1968 Boston Marathon winner, Amby Burfoot, was quoted in saying, “Running has taught me, perhaps more than anything else, that there is no reason to fear starting lines and new beginnings.”

It’s a new year.  There is a pretty big goal looming in November when I will take to the starting line of Ironman Arizona, but I’m ready to tackle this challenge head on. There are mistakes to be made, lessons to be learned, unknowns to be seen, adventures to be had, goals to be achieved, dreams to be fulfilled.  There will be disappointments and achievements, hurt and healing, frustration and celebration.

But I’ll never know where I can go if I choose to stand still.

2014, Full steam ahead.  Fearless.

Rambling Runner Girl reporting live from the other side of the Mississippi.  Merry Christmas from Quincy!

Today while I was out for a run, a quote by Olympian Kara Goucher kept playing over and over in my mind.  “That’s the thing about running: your greatest runs are rarely measured by racing success.  They are moments in time when running allows you to see how wonderful your life is.”

A couple weeks ago, I led the group run at Lifetime on a Tuesday night.  It was an easy 5 mile course that I had run before, so it shouldn’t have been terribly difficult.  But after all that I have put my body through this year, I was beginning to feel broken.  I decided to allow myself a break for the last couple weeks of 2013.

I raced a lot this year.  I ran the Vancouver Marathon in May, the Chicago Marathon in October and was prepared to run the Tecumseh Trail Marathon earlier this month.  I completed several half marathons, two 200+ mile relays, the Pere Marquette endurance trail race and a few 5 and 10k’s.  I stretched myself and reached new heights by completing a half Ironman in Racine in July.

All of those are great accomplishments that I am proud of, but like Kara said, those successes don’t begin to truly capture all that my life is.  Since my decided break from running, I’ve been taking it easy.  Let’s be real, we all knew I wasn’t going to just stop running for two weeks.  So my “break” has been a break from any kind of running agenda.  No stress.  No schedule.  Just running what I feel when I feel like it.  I’ve run only when it’s convenient, no more than 6 miles, at a nice easy pace.  I’ve taken a couple days off at a time and let my body rest.  Not something that comes easy to me, but something that needed to happen.  I am using this time to fall in love with running all over again.  Today was a perfect example of that.

Yesterday after I finished work, my mom and the kids picked me up and we made the drive up 61 to Hannibal and across the river to Quincy.  The whole Jacobs clan was converging on this tiny Midwestern town for a fun old-fashioned family Christmas.  Cousins and uncles had flown in from California, Minneapolis, Boston and DC.  Other cousins had driven in from various parts of Illinois.  We pulled up to my Uncle Tim’s farm house and it wasn’t long before everyone else started to arrive.  The counter was filling with food, the house was filling with people and my heart was filled to overflowing as I looked around at so many of the people that I love.  My kids played with cousins, we drank wine and mint punch, we placed gifts under the tree.  I sat in the kitchen with my cousins’ girlfriends and my Uncle Curt’s best friend Julie who I’ve known my entire life, and it occurred to me, By Golly, we’ve got Girls in this family now!  Growing up I was constantly surrounded by boys, which would probably explain a few things about me.

By the time I joined the group working on the 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle the border was already complete.  Some would pop in and out to help with the puzzle, but for the most part the die-hards were the same as usual and they stayed to completion.  We had a white elephant gift exchange that filled the house with laughter.  We are a wacky crew, but we are always ready with open arms for anyone who dares join us.  I couldn’t have imagined being anywhere else.  And while there were several who were missing, we spoke of them fondly and wished that they were with us.

Eventually the party wound down and everyone started to return to their places of slumber.  The kids and I were staying at the farm.  While tucking Silas into one of the twin bunk beds in the “Bunk Room” where there are 10 twin beds (no joke) I said, “Ok, I will just lay down with you for a minute” and the next thing I knew he was asking where his clothes were so he could get dressed.

This morning, everyone slowly gathered in the kitchen for coffee.  A few went off to have coffee at the Park Bench, mostly the aunts and uncles.  My cousins slowly roused and we made plans for the day.  We got a text declaring “Maid-rite at 12:30, spread the word”.  It was at that point that I decided to go for a run before loading my body with the toxins of Maid-rite.  Delicious as they may be, they are still taking years off my life, I’m sure.

I did a quick change, grabbed my gear, left my 10 year old daughter in charge of a house full of my cousins (knowing that she is by far the most responsible among those that were there) and I drove over to my Grandma’s house to start my run from there.  It made more sense than running by the farm which would put me on some more dangerous roads.  I opted for safe and quaint.  I parked in the driveway and ran towards town, mostly just an out and back on 24^th Street.  It wasn’t a particularly scenic route, but one that I had run many times before.

I ran to Maine Street and then I turned around and ran back to Grandma’s.  I ran past a police officer who had set up a check point at 24^th and Harrison.  As I ran by he asked, “You got your seatbelt on?”  I smiled.

Actually, I smiled the whole time I was running.  I usually do smile when I run, unless you happen to catch me at one of those moments when I’m sporting a look of pure determination.  But seriously, I was smiling today.  My heart was overflowing.  I couldn’t have been happier.  And like Kara said, running was allowing me one of those moments that I was able to see just how wonderful my life is.

I’ll be honest, I was worried about Christmas this year.  It was my first Christmas Eve without my babies.  But I managed to not just get through it, instead I came through it soaring.  I have been blessed this holiday season with the presence of family and friends and even some unexpected surprises.  I didn’t receive many gifts that required unwrapping, but I did receive gifts in abundance; gifts that are above and beyond anything that could ever be bought. And while I ran today, I remembered that the spirit of Christmas can’t be contained to one day of the year.  I may only see my whole family a couple times a year and I may only have my kiddos 50% of the time, but they fill my heart all year long.

My races of 2013 are accomplishments that no one can take away from me, but my true success in life is knowing where my heart is.

For whatever reason, on Monday when I woke up, I had decided to take the day off.  I wasn’t going to run.  But the minute I stepped outside and saw how nice it was, that idea completely left me.  It wasn’t long before I laced up and headed to my secret spot.  I had to alter my route just slightly due to some snow on the road, but ended up with 6 miles and saw a grand total of one other person on my route.

There is something really special about a Monday run.  I typically don’t worry too much about speed or distance, I just run while I process the events of the weekend.

This was a really special weekend.  The four of us who had a cancelled marathon the previous weekend, we’re also signed up for the Pere Marquette Endurance Trail Race.  This is only a 7.8 mile race, but is dubbed the hardest race in the Midwest.  And for good reason.  The elevation on this course is intense.  But the challenge doesn’t always lie just in the course alone.

On Friday, the crew of us that had all registered together for this event began a group message to line up our car pool assignments and determine meeting spots.  It was decided that Shalini and Tony would go to Wes’s house to ride with him.  I would meet Chad and Nick at Starbucks in the valley.  And Sparky was planning to drive out on his own.  However, sometimes plans are made to be broken.  Friday night as the snow began to fall, our intentions started to get shaky.  Chad texted me to say he wasn’t sure about driving all the way over to Grafton, IL in nasty weather.  Shortly after that, Nick confessed that he was having a better time than expected at his company Christmas party and he was iffy.  I had a feeling I was about to be left on my own, so I texted Wes to create a back up plan.

Sure enough, when Saturday morning rolled around, I was fending for myself.  I left early enough to drop the kids off at their dad’s house before making my way to a spot just off 270 where Wes and co. could intercept me.  The roads weren’t great since it had been snowing all night and people in Missouri aren’t known for having “snow driving” listed as one of their strengths.  But as Wes said, part of the adventure, is getting to the race.  And considering that we’d had one race cancelled already in December, we sure weren’t going to let a little snow stand in our way of tackling that already intimidating trail.

Warning: Gross Runner Girl Alert!  I will spare you the details, but as we drove, my stomach started to get a little questionable.  When we arrived at the Pere Marquette lodge, I jumped out and high tailed it up the hill.  I was having runner issues and girl issues simultaneously and I needed a bathroom.  Quickly.

After tending to my issues and getting my bib, I gathered with my crew in the hallway of the lodge.  Shalini and Wes had both crossed paths with Shane, but we weren’t quite sure where he had made off to.  We predicted that he had decided to go ahead and start, we were correct.  We had all missed our assigned start waves, so we all started together with the “last chance” wave after Wes dropped our extra gear at the car.  With a trail race like this, it would be impossible to have 700 runners start at the same time, so they break it down into about 30 smaller groups that start every 30 seconds in an effort to spread everyone out a little better.  However, on Saturday only about 450 runners showed at the start line.  We had at least completed the part of the battle that is Showing Up.

On our way to the start, we asked a nice gentleman to take our picture.  I asked if we should smile or make a badass type face.  I was pretty sure I was scowling.  To which the nice gentleman said, “Scowl before you growl!”  That’s right, he knew what we were out there to do and we were ready to get it done.

Before long, they sent us on our way.  And we ran.  Only about a third of a mile into the race the ascent begins.  So we climbed.  Wes and I were together for the majority of the race.  He would run the down hills with reckless abandon, but I would catch him on the uphills.  And so the race went as such.

It was absolutely beautiful.  Everything was snow covered and magical.  There were downed trees blocking the course at points, so we had to climb over, under and literally through the obstacles in our path.  Near mile 4, we could look down onto a snow covered clearing.  I passed a couple girls going up the hill and they yelled some kind of encouragement.  I called over my shoulder, “Don’t forget to take it all in!”  I was staring off at the scenery and a few steps later I was running in almost knee deep snow because in not paying attention to where I was going I had gotten off the path of packed down snow.  That happened multiple times during the race.  And running downhill got a little tricky at times.  I had to avoid the slick spots by running up on the snow bank.  I managed to stay vertical the entire race, but it sure got interesting.  And I had a couple close calls.

As we headed down the last descent into the finish, I could no longer see Wes in front of me.  That guy has no fear on the downhills.  Sometimes I wish I had a little more of his reckless abandon, but we all have our own strengths.  He was waiting for me at the finish.  We went and grabbed the bags from the car and went into the lodge to change and get warm.  That was where we found Shane.  Slowly our little group began to grow.  Shalini and Tony showed up.  Then Brian and a few others.  We got our complimentary beers, checked our official results and listened to the awards ceremony.  After a while we were all starving so we decided to head over to Fast Eddies.  I grabbed my bag and rode over with Shane.  We met up with the others at the restaurant.

We ordered our burgers and fries and beers.  Fast Eddie’s was crawling with other Pere Marquette runners.  We had received a jacket with our registration and as I looked across the enclosed patio area, I tried to figure out the design on the back.  It looked like 4 Christmas trees side by side.  Then it occurred to me.  That was the elevation map of the race we had just completed.  Outstanding.

We recapped the race, mingled with other runners, commenced in downing our food.  We reminisced about the obstacles and scenic views on the course.  We also discussed where the slick spots were and whether we had all managed to stay upright.  We all had a few near misses, but as it turned out Tony was the only one who really bit it on Saturday.  He managed a somewhat glorious face plant in the snow.   To sum up our experience, Wes said, “It’s a balance of taking it all in, and trying not to fall on your ass.”  Right on, Vega.  Right on…

Eventually, we all had to go on our merry way.  Shane drove me back to my car.  From there, I picked up my kids and we went to 4:30 church, then Target, then home to have Hot Chocolate and watch Elf.  Sunday started with the custody swap.  Then I headed off to work for a few hours.  After work I went off to my kiddos’ Christmas program at school.  It’s still tough to go to those events alone, but as a mom sometimes you just have to suck it up and do what you have to do for your kids.  Especially when you have to face a whole table of people who you used to spend holidays with, but no longer do.  But totally worth it to have my baby present the gift to his teacher that he picked out just for her.  A sock monkey, named Sock, because she loves sock monkeys.  After the program, I went to Katrina’s for a girls night full of Christmas Vacation, loaded hot chocolate and other treats.

As I ran on Monday, I tried to avoid slipping on some icy spots while I took in the snow covered trees.  Vega’s words rang in my head, “It’s a balance of taking it all in, and trying not to fall on your ass.”

I was taking it all in.  The good, the bad and the ugly.  I took in the excitement and anticipation of lining up for a race with my friends.  I took in the adventure of a snow covered trail.  I took in the thrill of going from 9^th in my age group last year, to 7^th this year.  I took in the joy of laughing with my friends at Fast Eddies.  The disappointment of realizing I had left my favorite gloves at the lodge. I took in the beauty of listening to my kids sing about the birth of Jesus.  The pain of knowing I won’t spend Christmas Even with my babies this year.  I felt my heart warm at my baby presenting “Sock” to his teacher.  I took in the comfort of spending a cold night having fun with my girlfriends.  And through it all, I was still trying really hard not to fall on my ass.

I know I’m not guaranteed not to fall down once in a while.  But I’m willing to risk the occasional wipe out to ensure that I never miss a thing.  If taking it all in means I end up doing a face plant once in a while, it’s still totally worth it.

Running legend, Steve Prefontaine, once said, “A lot of people run to see who is fastest.  I run to see who has the most guts.”

Today I ran a marathon.  All by myself.  On a Monday.  With a high temp of 25 degrees.  Which means that it actually felt like it was in the teens.

This was my 10th marathon, but what made it different than my first 9 was that there was no fanfare.  There was no Expo. No packet pick up.  No Race t-shirt.  No chip time.  No start corrals.  No official course map.  No one standing along the course cheering and clapping.  No funny signs of encouragement to read along the way.  No aid stations.  There were no other runners running the course with me.  It was just me, making up the route as I went along.

If you read my last post, you know that I was supposed to run a trail marathon on Saturday.  But the Tecumseh trail marathon, along with several other larger, better known races around the country, was cancelled due to inclement weather.  If you read that post, you would also know that my friend Derrick told me to go run it on my own.  So that’s exactly what I did.

I told almost no one that I was going to do this because I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen.

Last night I carb loaded with Katrina.  We ate pizza and left over chocolate ice cream cake from Lindsey Farrell’s birthday dinner, while we watched the movie The Holiday.  Then I drove home, climbed into my bed and didn’t move until about 7:30 this morning.

When I got up, the plan was already formed in my head.  Since there was no official start time, I slowly got dressed in my warmest winter running gear while I brushed my teeth.  I made my way to the kitchen for a bagel and peanut butter with my coffee.  I took my time eating breakfast as I contemplated what I was about to do.  Eventually, I hopped in the car and drove over to Castlewood.  There was only one other car in the third parking lot on the right when I pulled in to our crew’s usual meeting spot.  But I knew everyone else was either working or tending to kids or doing their typical Monday morning routine that didn’t involve a Castlewood run since they had all been there the day before.  I stayed in the heat as long as possible while I gathered my necessary items.  Gu, ipod, Garmin. I filled my water bottle.  I was beginning to really question my sanity since what I was about to do seemed somewhat crazy.  Run 26 miles by myself in the freezing cold?  I don’t actually have to do this.  I grabbed my trail shoes from the back seat and began to lace up when another car pulled into the lot.  I recognized Rosie’s car immediately and we both waved.  I couldn’t have been happier to see anyone else!  Rosie’s arrival was perfect because, you see, this is a girl who would run Castlewood marathons as training runs for the Mark Twain 100.  That’s right, she ran 100 miles at one time.  That is fantastically, awesomely insane!  And I love it.  Even better than Rosie’s encouragement that I could accomplish what I was about to set out for, was the fact that we were both in our matching purple and neon Fleet Feet wind blockers that we got at the staff Christmas party last year.  Rosie set off up Lone Wolf hill and I continued my preparations.

Finally, I was ready to go.  I turned on my ipod, locked the car and hit start on the Garmin.  Well, here goes nothin…

I started out by running along the road in the snow toward the River Scene trail, under the train tracks and made a left to the start of the trail.  I followed River Scene over to Cedar Bluff, went through the tunnel and did the 2ish mile loop through the woods.  Once I came back through the tunnel, I jumped on the Al Foster trail and followed it all the way past the mini train depot to the turn around point.  That was somewhere around Mile 10 and I must have been slightly delirious from the cold, or I was trying to keep my face from freezing, since I was singing Rihanna’s Rude Boy as I passed a sweet old couple.  They said Good Morning, hopefully they weren’t offended by the lyrics.  I started back down Al Foster, but when I got to the parking lot where I would usually turn left, I stayed right to continue along next to the river.  That eventually hooked me into familiar territory which I stuck with all the way back along the river and to the car for a refueling session.  Rosie’s car was no longer in the parking lot.  18 miles down, 8 more to go…

It was a welcome 5 minute break.  Despite the couple of salted caramel Gu’s I had taken at various points on the course, my stomach had started growling a few miles back.  I jumped in the car, checked my phone, ate a Peanut Butter and Jelly flavored Bonk Breaker, refilled my water bottle, restocked my Gu and already my body temperature was starting to plummet.  I knew I had to get back out there and stay warm or I was a goner.  I made sure I had everything I needed, locked the car up again and restarted the Garmin.

This time I went up Lone Wolf hill, which was a tough climb on tired legs, but it got me warmed back up quickly which I needed.  Once I was at the top, I ran along the bluff overlooking the River, then came down the switchbacks that brought me to the creek.  With 6 miles still to go, I didn’t really feel like dealing with wet shoes in 20 degrees, so I avoided the creek crossing and went back to Grotpeter so I could get to the other side.  I ran over to Cardiac Hill wondering how I was really going to make that climb.  But I crossed the road and started up the aptly named hill. I slowed to a walk about a third of the way up to conserve energy.  At some point it makes just as much sense to slow down and walk the tough hills in order to have enough left to carry on when you get to the summit.  Kind of profound, huh?

The last few miles are kind of a blur.  At mile 21, I ate my last Gu, mostly just to give myself something else to think about for a minute.  At mile 22, I was more than ready for it to be over.  I knew I couldn’t just walk the rest though because I’d freeze out there.  So I kept putting one foot in front of the other, like every other marathon I have ever done.

Once I came out of the woods, I was near the parking lot.  I had to sort of make up where I was going for a stretch, back and forth through the snow to get the last bit in.  I finally made one last trip under the train tracks out to the river.  With only a mile left I had to slow to a walk as a family of deer was blocking the trail. I counted 9 of them.  10 feet in front of me.  Several of them ran off, but two of them stood where they were and watched me pass.  I smiled at my cheering section.

I picked up the pace again.  And finally started back to the car.  I was exuberant at the thought of being done.  Even though it was weird that I was about to finish a marathon with no official time.  No photographers.  No real finish line to cross.  No crowd of people lining the shoot with shouts of excitement.   No medals. No fanfare.  No glory.

I had less than half a mile when I noticed a car.  Mark, one of only 3 people who knew I was out there, had come to cheer me into the finish.  I ran past him to go the last .3 miles.  And I finally looped back around.  I had gone a little farther than I needed but that usually happens in races of considerable distance because unless you cut the tangents perfectly you end up going slightly out of your way.

I stopped running when I hit the pavement of the parking lot.  Mark jumped out of his car to greet me.  It was surreal.  I was tired.

26.33 miles of trails in 4 hours and 41 minutes.  My run took me through familiar parts of the park and new areas to explore.  I was the fastest one on the course today.  I won the race. But I wasn’t setting any land speed records, that’s for sure.  This run wasn’t really about that though.  Like “Pre” said, I wasn’t running to see who was fastest; I was running to see who had the most guts.

I have absolutely no proof that I ran all 26.33 of those miles today.  Who isn’t to think I may have driven around in my car for part of that time to make my Garmin read those numbers?  I saw no more than 10 people while I was running and I don’t know a single one of them. I am the only person who truly knows without a doubt that I did it.  I proved to myself today that I’ve got guts.  And that’s really all the glory I will ever need.